Missing
by Child of the Muse
Summary: When his name disappeared from the pureblood tapestry was the day I should have known. But how could I have ever known? Written for the Fanfiction Quidditch League Competition.


**A/N It was very hard for me to get to 1095 words, because I was done at 517 with a full story. But after adding more background than I had originally intended, I got to 1095. My prompts were Rare, Sleepless Nights, and Sentence: The clock on the wall seems to be ticking backwards. Enjoy! :)**

When his name disappeared from the pureblood tapestry was the day I should have known. But how could I have ever known?

The blistering wind shrieked shrilly through the raging storm in the dead of the black furious night. Draco was asleep just down the hall. I refused to let him sleep anywhere else. The dark lord had taken over one of the more luxurious rooms on the other side of the mansion. For that, I was grateful. But it changed little still. My son would still sleep as close to me as possible, as if I was hanging on the notion that somehow, by being bathed in my presence, I could protect him from the eventual course his life would take. It was a fallacy, but it was a comforting one, as Draco was all I had left.

And like Draco, all of our pets, cats, unicorns, dogs, dragons, peacocks, ravens, and owls were all asleep in their respective designated places. Aside from the dark lord, who I was almost sure never slept, but one could never be so sure. I was too afraid to ask. What I was quite sure of however, was that I was the only other person awake at this hour. I've _always_ been the only other person awake. But it didn't used to be that way.

There was a time where we Malfoy's lived richly and without stress. There was next to none that knew of the Order of the Phoenix, even the dark lord himself admits that he knew not of them. And so to us, we lived unopposed and at peace. We were filled with the desires to rule the wizarding world behind closed doors and pass the laws only we thought should be brought into fulfillment. Money had never been an option, beauty was a tool to be treasured and used to exploit upon the greed of those whom you would exchange a favor. We feared nothing. This was the pureblood way of life, and not just for myself, but for many purebloods all over the wizarding world. We ruled with galleons and treachery, as opposed to an iron fist.

But than The Order of the Phoenix rose up against us, the dark lord turned rageful, fearsome, angry. Each one of us bent to his sadistic will like marionettes, and he tugged each and every string. And in his doing so, each of us, whether deatheater or supporter, lived a half life. A fearful life. That was the price that we had to pay. No one knew who was going to die next. No one knew who the dark lord would mutilate in his endless search for the affliction of misery. But that was quite alright. Those times were behind us. Harry Potter had set us all free. And though my husband thought differently, I was very thankful to Harry for saving my husband from such a horrid fate as the dark lord. Because I knew what would have happened had he not, and that was a horrid thought in and of itself, now that I could see the truth.

Unfortunately, Harry's victory only stalled the madman on his murderous rampage to take over Britain, if not indeed the entire wizarding world.

After Draco's fourth year, the rumors flew around us supporters that the dark lord had risen again. We refused to admit the fear settled in each of our hearts, instead choosing to praise his name out of sheer force of that one fact: No one could be trusted. The dark lord sent many of his death eaters, including my husband, on covert missions. Where he sent them, I do not know. I don't think I _want_ to know, lest I stay up all night worrying about whether Lucius is going to come back to me, or Voldemort is going to report him dead.

It was a common tradition in the pureblood community to marry for money. But we, myself and Lucius, had married for love. Not for money. And it was rare when I did not worry about Lucius's future, or indeed, what his decision meant for Draco.

It's caused many a sleepless night for me, Lucius's service to the dark lord. I will usually busy myself with some worthless project to forget the aching lonesomeness inside my silent still beating heart. I sit in my chair and read by day, hoping against all doubt that he will come home. At night I have always busied myself with menial tasks, knowing it is the only way to survive him being gone, and to survive the fact that indeed, I may never see him again.

I know I ought not to think such things, mother _did_ always tell me I was by far too negative. But I can't help it, and I won't help it. I need to be prepared for the worst, if indeed the worst does come to pass. If I'm not prepared to lose the love of my life at any given moment, he could be snatched from me without my knowing, and I would live with that unexpected hurt for the rest of my life. Somehow, I think knowing it will happen eventually will harden my heart to the pain. If only it could. Lucius _is_ my heart.

And so I sit here in this chair, waiting for my soul which is hearkening for it's own return, begging, pleading. Maybe hoping for the glimmering chance, one echoing call, that would tell me he is alive. The fire in it's hearth is warm, but I am cold. I have not eaten in days. I have not slept in longer. My heart has gone cold. A cold heart in that which knows that he will never come home. That my owl will never be answered. That my call will never be heard. This heart knows that he is gone, that when Lucius left was the last time I would see him. There was a time where the the clock on the wall seemed to be ticking backwards. But now I must think forward to the future, instead of looking at the past.

I am a widow, and my heart has lost all love beyond recall. Draco is indeed now, the only reason I still fight. But how can I fight for Draco, when it hurts to look at his face? How can I see my son, when I only see the shadows of his long lost father? My Lucius.


End file.
